


Straight On

by romanticalgirl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Peter Pan Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Near Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 17:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16067984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Steve's been captured, and it's up to Bucky to save him. Assuming Bucky still believes.A sort of Peter Pan fusion





	Straight On

Steve sits in the empty lantern and stews. He’s kicked the glass. He’s punched the glass. He’s yelled loudly at Captain Rumlow to let him the fuck out, but he’s fairly certain he can’t be heard. Every once in a while, Rumlow flicks the glass and makes it vibrate, makes it sway, and that just makes Steve want to kick his ass even more. 

Rumlow leans down and stares at Steve, his eyes magnified by the beveled glass. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Should have known.”

Well, that answers the question of whether or not Rumlow can hear him. Now he wants to do more than kick his ass. Rumlow’s breath fogs the glass and Steve can smell the hint of fish. He wrinkles his nose and Rumlow grabs the lantern and swings it wildly as he walks out on deck.

Steve tumbles around, ass over teakettle. Rumlow’s laughing as are the rest of his crew aboard the Hydra, the many headed beast flying high on the flag from the mast. The lantern he’s in gets hung on a hook and then smacked. 

“Light up, fairy. Call your precious Bucky to rescue you.”

Steve refuses to do anything, until Rumlow’s breath stinks up the lantern again. “Maybe he’s forgotten about you, hmm? He ran away from you, didn’t he? Didn’t want to be near you. You’re a sorry excuse for even a fairy, aren’t you? Bent and broken wings. Wonder you’ve even managed to get patched up enough to fly. Certainly not enough to not get caught. Maybe that’s it. Maybe he’s just tired of rescuing you.”

Steve glares at him, arms crossed over his chest defiantly. “He’ll come.” 

“Or maybe now that he’s on the other side of the island. Maybe he’s gone and followed those people back to the real world and forgotten about you. Maybe he can’t rescue you, fairy, because he doesn’t believe you exist. And, well, if that’s the case, you won’t last for long, will you.”

Steve’s heart beats faster, but he stays stoic and angry. He knows none of what Rumlow’s saying is true. Bucky wouldn’t forget him. Bucky’s always come for him. 

He’ll come this time.

**

Steve’s sitting in the lantern, refusing to listened to Rumlow’s commands. He’s gotten drunker and angrier, and now his breath smells like rotted fish and rum. Steve’s back is against the glass, and he knows his wings are sagging. He touches the edge of one, and the iridescence is fading to a dull white. 

He doesn’t want to believe Rumlow’s right. He doesn’t want to believe that Bucky’s gone from the island. Doesn’t want to believe he left to go where Steve can’t follow. Doesn't want to believe he’s gone where he’ll have no choice but to forget. 

But as the night wears on and the edges of his wings start to fray, Steve realizes Rumlow’s right. He’s been forgotten and in less than a day Rumlow’s lamp will be empty of everything except the remnants of pixie dust, Steve’s heart crushed into nothing but powder.

**

His skin is nearly translucent. He can see the veins, vividly blue. Can almost see the fading gold inside it, the source of his dust, his power, his life. When Steve is gone, Rumlow will attack the far side of the island, and without Bucky there, he’ll win. Soon the whole place will be nothing but a horror story, all of the lush trees and fields and sparkling seas destroyed and turned gray. And, if he finds the heart of the island, he’ll disappear through the clouds and take on the world Bucky’s gone back to. 

Steve stretches out his legs and puts his hands on them. His outline’s beginning to fade. It’s almost nightfall. Almost twenty-four hours since Rumlow told him that the one person Steve loves no longer believes in him. Steve’s not listening to Rumlow and his crew plot their course. He looks up to the darkening sky where the sun has turned the clouds a gorgeous purple and pink, tinged with yellow and darkest blue. It’s the last sunset Steve will see. The last colored sunset the island will experience. 

He’s young for a fairy, and the last of his kind until the flower pods bloom after their hundred year sleep. He can’t remember when the hundred years will end. He can’t remember his name. Can’t remember anything but the silver-gray of Bucky’s eyes.

Steve’s almost gone now. He can’t see his wings, can’t see much of anything through the fog. He knows he’ll feel the tug of them when they fall. Knows without knowing how that once he feels that sting, his heart will be gone and he’ll be nothing. Not even a memory.

He’s so tired.

**

His eyelids flutter and he care barely feel his lashes. But there’s something in the fog. A sharp clash of metal, the boom of a gun, the splash of water, a scream that sounds like death. Steve didn’t expect his death to be so violent. He assumed that his death would be quiet, the silent slip away of someone no one remembered.

The fog starts to clear, and Steve can see the deck of the ship. He sees the red tin soldier firing his rifle, stabbing pirates with his bayonet. He sees the falcon and the hawk swoop down from the sky and rip at skin and claw at faces. He sees the black spider spinning tight webs around pirate throats and over their mouths until they fall dead where they stand. He sees the cat’s claws strike.

And up high in the masts, clinging to rope, he sees Rumlow and his sword fighting with Bucky. Bucky’s knife moves fluidly, countering ever blow Rumlow sends. Bucky slashes at Rumlow’s face, leaving a cut that drips red blood down Rumlow’s cheek. 

Steve doesn’t want to look away, but there’s a squeak and he can see the ants crawling on the lantern key and turning it. They cling to it as the door swings open and Steve flies out, moving faster than he ever has, his body quivering with anger and fear and desperation.

He flies up into a sharp arc as he reaches Rumlow and Bucky, letting dust fall into Rumloow’s eyes. He screams in fury and pain and, as he raises his hand at the sudden burning, Bucky ducks beneath his sword and slides the knife home in Rumlow’s chest between two ribs before then twists it. 

Rumlow falls and Steve follows him down toward the water. He steals a knife from a pirate’s hand as he goes, moving faster than Rumlow falls so he can stab the blade into Rumlow’s throat, listening to him gag, listening to the whistle of wind as he tries to breath in the instant before he hits the water.

Steve hovers there, watching Rumlow sink. After a moment, there’s the soft sound of Bucky’s voice. “Steve.”

Steve turns his head then flies over to Bucky. Standing on the railing of the ship, Steve crosses his arms over his chest and glares up at him. Steve’s wings flicker in irritation and, if he could, he’d kick Bucky somewhere it truly hurt. 

“It took some time.” Bucky says with a shrug.

“I thought it had taken you.”

“The world can’t have me, Steve.” Steve looks at the deck of the ship, awash in blood. The tin soldier raises his helmet, sketching a salute to Steve. The two birds settle on the rail on one side of Steve while the spider climbs down on a thread of silk and hangs next to him. The cat leaps up next to her, and the ants crawl from inside his fur to create a small line, another troop of soldiers. 

Steve has seen all of them in his travels through the forests with Bucky, seen others when they’d found themselves in the world, searching for lost boys and girls, searching for the ones who have been forgotten. 

“Thank you all.”

They all brush away Steve’s thanks and go about the ship looking for treasure or food or something else altogether. Only Bucky stays by Steve’s side. 

“You doubted me.”

“It took you from me once.”

“I came back.”

“You’d forgotten the last time. It was only a tiny hidden spark of hope that you kept in your heart that let you find your way back, after all the others had found a way to leave. And even then you were almost too late to save me.”

“I would never forget you.” Bucky bent down to look Steve in the eye. “Now, stop being stubborn.”

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t have enough power.”

“You haven’t had enough power since you bloomed, and yet you still manage to do it anyway. Now, come on. Thank me properly.”

Steve kicks a speck of nothing off the railing, trying to ignore Bucky’s smile. Of course, that’s the one thing Steve’s never been very good at. “Fine.”

Steve knows there’s a sudden shimmer in the air, because Bucky’s told him, but all he feels is a tremble and then he’s standing in front of Bucky. He’s still smaller than him, but they’re far more equal like this. Steve keeps his arms crossed over his chest, but his wings are moving quickly, tied to his heart, which is tied to Bucky with invisible threads

“Better,” Bucky says with a smile.

“Hmph.” Steve turns up his nose.

Bucky takes advantage of the movement, to lean in and stop just above Steve, mouth still curled in that smile. His breath smells like chocolate and spun sugar and cinnamon. “Thank me properly, Stevie.”

“Fine.” Steve moves forward just a bit and presses his lips lightly against Bucky’s before pulling back. “There. Thank you.”

Bucky laughs and slides his fingers in Steve’s blond hair. “I said properly.” He nuzzles Steve, nose to nose, and then kisses him. It’s slow and warm and long. When he pulls back, Bucky is slightly breathless and still smiling. “I’ve believed in you from the start. And, my sweet little fairy, I always will.”

“Asshole.” Steve shrinks to his normal size and flicks dust in Bucky’s face. “Don’t call me that.” He kicks off in the air and starts to fly back to their trees, his wings quivering indignantly. He can’t help smiling as he hears Bucky’s laugh all the way back home.


End file.
